


Humdrum

by churkey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Derek Hale is a Failwolf, Fluff, Getting Together, Healthy Communication, Knotting, M/M, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, No Angst, Romance, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Werewolf Mates, derek is a nice thing, not even a little, only a little though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churkey/pseuds/churkey
Summary: Stiles lives a quiet and mundane life. Until he meets Derek.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 171
Kudos: 947





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

> This is finished! Only editing to do. Clocks in at around 17k words, so a long one for me.
> 
> Also completely AU. Likely the most straightforward romance I'll ever write, with a little werewolf culture thrown in, as well as some trope inversion.

When he’d been growing up, Stiles had imagined all sorts of exciting futures. He’d be a cop, like his dad, and be a hero. Or he’d be a scientist who discovered the cure for cancer.

Instead…

He worked as a data entry clerk. For a tiny wage. But he had benefits, at least.

He spent day after day stuffed into a cubicle interacting with almost no one.

His life was sad and lonely. But there wasn’t even anything really _wrong_ with it. It’s just that there wasn’t anything really _right_ about it either.

Stiles couldn’t even point to any particular choice that led him to this moment. His life had just been… ordinary.

Sure, his mom had died when he was young and that sucked. But he’d healed over time and he rarely thought about it these days.

He’d only had one friend growing up because he’d had ADHD and put people off with his talking and info dumps on random topics.

His dad hadn’t been around much, being the sheriff and a single dad.

But it’d been okay. High School had been pretty ordinary. No big dramas for him.

He’d gotten decent grades and a scholarship to a nearby school, since he hadn’t wanted to move far from his dad.

His dad, though, had met a woman and moved away to retire. Stiles hadn’t wanted to get in the way of his dad’s new life, so he’d stayed behind.

Scott had met a girl at college and hadn’t returned to Beacon Hills.

Stiles always thought that college would be his time. Except that college kids didn’t appreciate his personality any more than kids in grade school.

Stiles had gotten a criminology degree because he’d wanted to join the Sheriff’s Department. Then his dad had moved away and the new sheriff had _not_ been welcoming. Apparently Stiles’ reputation for sticking his nose into crime scenes as a teen had preceded him.

He’d taken the data entry job as something to do while he figured out what to do with his life.

It was five years later and he knew he’d just gotten complacent and suddenly this was his _life_.

Passing him by.

He was lonely.

He spent too much time alone and didn’t know how to fix it.

He’d never had a relationship since most people in town still thought he was annoying. Plus, there was the whole bisexual thing. Turns out that a lot of women weren’t keen to date a dude who’d kissed other dudes. And a lot of gay men weren’t keen to date a dude who couldn’t ‘commit to a sexuality’.

He hadn’t made any friends since Scott had left. It’d never been easy for him and now he didn’t even have a group of people forced to spend time with him every day like at school.

His colleagues didn’t count. Everyone who worked that job did their best to spend as little time at the office as possible. It was depressing, mind-numbing work.

That was his life. A boring nine-to-five job. No great romance. No friends.

Just him.

* * *

Everything changed when the most beautiful man in the world asked him out.

“Hey, wait up!” a voice called out as Stiles left the coffee shop.

He stepped out of the door and turned around.

Stiles had never seen this guy before. He’d have remembered. Who could forget that body? That _face?_ Those multi-coloured eyes.

Plus, there was the whole… bad boy look.

He wore a leather jacket. Had a short (soft looking) beard. Looked pretty grumpy for no reason Stiles could see. He knew he hadn’t done anything to the guy.

But it wasn’t even the look. There was a whole… vibe or something. Guy had a serious _presence_. It felt dangerous.

Stiles looked around because there was _no way_ this scorching hunk was talking to _him_. Except that, no, apparently he had been.

“I’m Derek,” and a large hand was held out to shake. Stiles shook it on auto-pilot, brain absently noting how _warm_ it was, “Have dinner with me sometime.”

“Was that even a question? I can’t tell from your lack of inflection. Wait, you want to have dinner, with _me?_ ” Stiles asked, baffled. Arm flailing, almost smacking the guy in the face.

Dude had good reflexes since he managed to dodge.

“Yes. Dinner. With you. I’ll pick you up at seven…” an eyebrow quirked.

Stiles was too stunned to reply because what was even happening right now?

“This is where you tell me your name and where you live,” the most beautiful man in the world flatly stated.

“My name is Stiles,” he said absently, “Wait, I didn’t mean to tell you that. Seriously, what is _up_ with your lack of inflection? You can’t just walk up to a random stranger and demand to take them out on a date. And, oh my god, I’m _not_ telling you where I live, you creep.”

Derek sighed, like _Stiles_ was the most exasperating person on the planet, “Fine. I can find you on my own. Be ready at seven, Stiles.”

And then Derek seriously just walked away.

What the actual fuck?

* * *

It was the most exciting thing to happen to Stiles in _years_.

* * *

Derek had been weird. Everything about that whole situation was _weird_.

There was literally no way he was going _anywhere_ with a strange man who told him that they were going on a date.

It didn’t matter how hot Derek was. He was creepy and weird.

Stiles knew he was trying really hard to convince himself. Trying to be a responsible adult and not impulsively go on a date with a dude as weird as Derek.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was scouring his closet for something to wear as he bitched about how creepy Derek was.

He really had to have _something_ to wear. It’d been so long since he’d been on a date or done anything fun, really. He could _not_ only have boring work clothes or the now ratty and baggy graphic t-shirts he’d worn in high school.

Stiles managed to unearth an old pair of jeans that _barely_ fit his slowly expanding middle. And, wow, when had he gotten so out of shape? He poked at his soft belly and thought that these jeans really were too tight for his current body.

His doorbell rang. Stiles head jerked to the clock on his nightstand and realized it was 7:00.

And Derek _had_ tracked him down just like he’d threatened.

Stiles was going to go to his door and tell him to fuck off. He grabbed the closest shirt and stomped to the door, fully intending to do just that.

He didn’t notice that his shirt was worn, old, and stretched to hell. That the collar drooped and exposed the long line of his neck.

He threw open the door and his brain stopped.

Derek had looked good in his leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans.

He looked even better in jeans that were improbably _tighter_ – oh, god, they cupped and perfectly displayed a _very_ generous package – and a green henley that did amazing things for his eyes. Green, Stiles thought, with an intriguing ring of brown around the pupil. The open throat of the henley showed a few curls of soft-looking chest hair and Derek’s beard looked absurdly soft and touchable.

How was _this_ man at his door taking him out on a date? A date he didn’t even want to go on!

He watched as Derek’s nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered for a moment, he swallowed, “You look amazing, Stiles,” his hand reached out and he dragged a single finger down Stiles’ neck.

It left a warm, tingling trail behind that had Stiles’ entire body _buzzing_. His brain must’ve whited out or something because the next thing he knew, he was seated in a beautiful Camaro going to god knows where.

* * *

They ended up at Stiles’ favourite diner, where they served the _best_ curly fries.

It proceeded to be one of the most awkward dates Stiles had ever been on. He babbled nervously and Derek mostly grunted in reply, scowling and looking grumpy the entire time.

Stiles did _not_ understand. Dude had basically ninja dated him then sat there looking grumpy and unhappy?

Stiles hadn’t even wanted to go on this date! Where did this guy get off looking like he regretted all the choices leading to this very moment?

“Um… You know, I can usually babble for hours, given the chance. But this is starting to become too awkward even for me. Why did you basically drag me on this date if you don’t want to be here?” Stiles asked.

Derek looked up from where he was scowling at his meal, eyes wide.

And…

Stiles was still getting a dangerous, super intense vibe from the guy. Something he didn’t know what to do with and it put him on edge.

There was something soft and vulnerable in the look he was giving Stiles at this exact moment; it eased something inside of him.

For all the supermodel looks and dangerous vibe, Stiles suddenly had the thought that maybe this guy was just as socially awkward as Stiles. Just in a different way.

Like maybe he was shy and just had resting bitch face.

It was the resignation on Derek’s face that made Stiles reach out and grab his hand, as he rose to leave.

Because, all of a sudden, Stiles didn’t want this date to end.

He wouldn’t say the date stopped being awkward but some of the tension left Stiles. He continued to babble but, now, Derek made an effort to make eye contact and even threw in a few one-word answers.

What really hit home, for Stiles, was when he resumed a subject that he’d veered off from around half an hour before and Derek asked a question.

The question itself wasn’t surprising but it was a clear sign that Derek had been _listening_ the entire time. He wasn’t just sitting there and grunting at appropriate places.

He was _listening_.

Stiles could honestly say that he couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t his dad and Scott sat and listened to him ramble for over two hours without once telling him to shut up. Or – this included Scott and his dad – having their eyes glaze over.

* * *

Derek walked him to his door. Like a bad boy gentleman or something. It was adorable and surprisingly charming.

As they stopped at Stiles’ door, he wasn’t sure if there was going to be a kiss or whatever. It was still the weirdest date he’d ever been on and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing. And, okay, he hadn’t had a lot of dates but whatever.

He turned to face Derek and, shit, the look in his eyes was _intense_.

Derek lifted a hand, slowly enough that if Stiles wanted to step back and away he could – he didn’t – and cupped the side of Stiles’ neck. Thumb making slow strokes up and down his throat.

It felt hard to breathe. The touch was far more gentle than he would’ve expected from Derek and about ten times more erotic than it had any right to be.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10. We’ll have breakfast and go for a hike. Wear good shoes and bring sunscreen,” Derek said in his usual even, flat tone.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “This is going to be a thing, isn’t it? You just telling me what we’re going to do instead of asking? Well, I have plans tomorrow,” Stiles lied.

One thick eyebrow rose, conveying Derek’s extreme skepticism.

“I do! Maybe next time you can try actually asking and we can do something if I have time,” Stiles insisted. As hot as Derek was, Stiles wasn’t a doormat. He wasn’t about to let himself be steamrolled.

Derek huffed, “May I have the honour of your company tomorrow for a hike? Perhaps around ten? But only if you have the time and it pleases you,” all said in the same dry, flat tone.

Stiles snorted and burst into laughter, “Oh my, god. You’re totally a snarky, sarcastic asshole. You should be glad I like that sort of thing. Fine. You can pick me up at ten.”

Derek smiled. It wasn’t a big smile but one side of his mouth quirked into a small half-grin that made Stiles weak in the knees. He thought he detected the hint of a dimple in Derek’s beard. And the brighter, softer look in his eyes was breathtaking.

He didn’t resist as Derek pulled him in for a small, gentle, and very sweet kiss.

Stiles leaned against his door, trying to catch his breath, as he watched Derek’s ass in those tight jeans walk away. As Derek got into his beauty of a car and drove away, one last flash of a grin over his shoulder.


	2. Saturday

Stiles spends the night with his brain going in circles.

None of this makes sense to him. He’s _boring_. He knows he’s not ugly. Cute, even. Hot enough to get laid when he wants to. He’s lean, a little soft in the belly but still toned.

He wasn’t insecure, exactly, more resigned to the reality of his situation. Perhaps he’d be more or do better in a larger city. Somewhere people didn’t remember him as a kid.

Nothing about him or his life suggested that one day the hottest person _ever_ would walk up and demand/ask for a date.

Literally _nothing_.

And yet…

Derek had done _exactly_ that. Just walked up and asked him out. Well, told him he was being taken out.

Same difference.

They’d had a sort of awkward date where the most Stiles had learned about Derek was that he was actually kind of socially inept and maybe a bit shy. That he looked like a bad boy and gave off a dangerous vibe but had been nothing but courteous and gentle with Stiles.

He felt like nothing in his life made sense anymore.

He was having a really hard time falling asleep.

Which wasn’t a good thing because he had to go _hiking_ in the morning.

* * *

Knocking at this door woke him up. Stiles’ mind immediately snapped into reality. Realizing he’d forgotten to set an alarm and slept in, he scrambled out of bed, only tripping twice on his way to the door.

He pulls it open to reveal Derek looking ruggedly handsome. Another henley, somewhat less sinfully tight jeans, and those boots. Trademark leather jacket too.

It was honestly too early for Stiles to handle Derek’s… _everything_.

“Derek, shit. I totally slept in. Forgot to set my alarm. Can you give me like, fifteen minutes to get dressed and stuff?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s eyes were a little wide and he was breathing heavily. Eyes tracing over Stiles’ – as he was just realizing – bare chest.

And, okay, Derek was stepping through his door gently pushing Stiles back a step. Which, rude! Stiles hadn’t even invited him in yet.

The door closed and Derek had an arm around his waist, pulling Stiles close. His face was buried at the crook of Stiles’ neck and he was practically panting.

“Uh, it’s nice to see you too, Derek. Maybe, um, I should go get dressed?” Stiles said. He was starting to feel a little breathless too. Derek was all hard-muscled warmth pressed right up against him.

And, shit, Derek smelled _good_. Like _really_ good. And he was so _warm_. And _strong._

Shit. Stiles needed to make a strategic retreat before his interest because _very_ obvious in his pyjama pants.

“Dude? Maybe you can let me go now?” Stiles poked Derek in the side.

He jolted and stepped away. His pupils were blown and he looked almost stoned.

 _“Stiles,”_ it was sort of a desperate, breathy whisper.

“That’s me… Right. Okay. I’m going to go get dressed. Make yourself comfortable,” Stiles said as he retreated to his room.

After a few moments of deep breathing, Stiles got ready. Threw on some random clothes and brushed his teeth.

When he left his room he found Derek wandering around and touching _everything_. It was weird. He hadn’t looked like the sort to be nosy but looks were deceiving.

“Hey, I’m ready to go. But I really hope there’ll be breakfast and coffee first because I’ll be pretty much useless without either,” Stiles said.

Derek startled and turned quickly to face Stiles. Again, _weird_.

“Breakfast is fine,” was Derek’s terse reply.

And so they went.

* * *

Derek took hiking _seriously_. He had a big backpack that suggested their hike would be a little more intense than he’d suggested.

Breakfast had been good. A lot easier than dinner. If only because Stiles was too busy eating and inhaling caffeine to worry about Derek’s silence.

It helped that Stiles knew that Derek was just kind of awkward.

This hike, though?

“Derek, are you trying to kill me? I was _not_ prepared for a fifty-mile hike today. And how are you in such good shape? It isn’t fair,” Stiles whined.

“We’ll be there soon,” was Derek’s reply.

“We’ll be _where_ soon?” Stiles demanded.

Derek didn’t say anything. Because he was a jerk who forced Stiles to mountain climb on Saturday afternoons.

He normally spent Saturday sitting around in his underwear playing videogames.

Fortunately, Derek hadn’t been lying and, well, the view of the spot where they stopped _was_ amazing.

Equally amazing was the fact that Derek had packed a seriously awesome picnic in that giant backpack.

“Okay, fine. This is nice. Although, this is so much food you might have to carry me back. And, wow, I don’t think I was expecting something so romantic from you,” Stiles babbled.

Derek had a small, soft smile that sort of took Stiles’ breath away.

It made him look like someone Stiles might be allowed to be with. He was still intimidatingly hot but… he seemed within reach. Like maybe Stiles could reach out and pet his beard.

For the first time in a really long time Stiles felt like he could be brave. So he reached out and laid a palm on Derek’s beard. It was as soft as it looked and Stiles loved the texture of it.

Derek’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then he turned his head to press a kiss onto Stiles’ hand.

The sounds of nature, the view, the sheer _presence_ of the man in front of him, the texture of the beard, that soft kiss, it all blended together and gave the world a saturated, surreal quality.

Like maybe this _was_ a dream.

Because it couldn’t be real.

And yet…

That scratchy, soft texture. The scent of forest and fresh air. Birds chirping and the rustling of leaves. The sight of the most beautiful man in the world.

It was all _real_.

* * *

Stiles hadn’t been joking about Derek carrying him home. He was full and already kind of sore.

He felt resigned to the hike back, though.

Until he went weightless for a moment as Derek lifted him into a princess carry.

“Okay, but I was actually joking about carrying me back. Yes, yes, you’re a super strong man and I’m very impressed,” Stiles mocked.

Except that Derek didn’t put him down. He just started walking back.

It was about an hour to where they’d parked – sue him, Stiles knew he was a drama queen, okay?

Stiles decided to humour Derek since he’d probably manage ten steps until he had to put Stiles down. Because while he wasn’t a beefcake like Derek, he was still a full-grown man.

Derek didn’t put him down in ten steps. Or twenty. Or forty. Or one-hundred.

He just kept _walking_. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.

And, see, Stiles _knew_ it was all too good to be true. Because no actual human being could do what Derek was doing. He figured he might as well enjoy the dream/hallucination/whatever while he could and just settled into Derek’s arms. Leaning his head against his shoulder and breathing in his ridiculously good smell.

Dude _should_ be sweaty and a little stinky, but no. He smelled _amazing_.

They made it to Derek’s sexy car with him carrying Stiles _and_ that giant backpack the entire way.

As they pulled away Stiles said, “If I’m not dreaming, are you going to explain what just happened? I don’t care how burly you are, you shouldn’t have been able to carry me for an hour without even sweating.”

Derek tensed, “I will. I’ll explain at your place.”

He decided he could be patient.

* * *

He was sitting on the couch watching Derek pace around like a predator. Stiles was still being patient hoping he could wait Derek out.

Not his strong suit, to be fair, but he was going to do it.

“I’m a werewolf,” Derek blurted as he planted his feet and looked Stiles right in the eye.

And as Stiles watched his features shifted and his eyes begin to glow blue.

“Okay. You’re a werewolf…” Stiles trailed off. He wasn’t sure what he felt. He was waiting to feel scared. Like… there was a mythical monster standing _right in front of him._

Except he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t sure _what_ he was but it wasn’t scared. A little disbelieving, but he figured that was natural when you were confronted by the impossible. More than a little awed.

Derek inhaled, “You’re not scared,” a small, pleased smile on his lips. He’d shifted back to looking human.

“Um… I don’t know what I feel. But no, I’m not scared. I _should_ be. But… You’ve been too gentle and sweet. It’s kind of hard to imagine you trying to eat me. Unless that’s how you catch your unsuspecting victims?” Stiles sort of asked.

Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, “I don’t have any victims. I’ve never harmed a human.”

“Well, that’s good. It’s a quality I appreciate in my romantic prospects. So, um, why _are_ you here, if it’s not to eat me? I’ll be honest that you being a werewolf is actually _more_ believable than someone as hot and awesome as you wanting to date me,” Stiles said.

Derek scowled, “Why wouldn’t I want to date you? You’re sexy and handsome. You smell amazing. And you’re my mate.”

Stiles wasn’t sure he heard that right because Derek had trailed off into mumbling by the end. His cheeks warmed at the compliments, though.

“I didn’t quite catch that. Did you say that I’m your mate? I think you should sit down and explain. Help me understand. _Please_ ,” Stiles begged.

Derek sat next to him and held his hand, “Born werewolves, like me, have mates. It’s… an instinct. We’ll scent or see someone who our instincts tell us is one of the most compatible people we’ll ever meet. That if we take a chance and try, we could build a strong, unbreakable bond with the person who’ll love and understand us better than anyone else could. It isn’t destiny. We _both_ have a choice. You can say no and I’ll eventually find another possible mate.”

“Wow, okay. Um… so I could be your mate and that’s why you asked me out? I guess that’s cool. It’s no better or worse than a lot of the reasons I’ve heard. It’s only our second date– Isn’t this a big secret?” Stiles wondered.

“It is. Some humans hunt my kind. They tried to kill most of my family when I was a kid. The supernatural world is dangerous. I thought about waiting to tell you. But… If I want to build something real with you, you need to know who and what I really am. I’m not human. I have never been human. You’d never really know me, if you didn’t know from the beginning. I’m a wolf, regardless of my shape. I’ve heard some gay people say that they are more than their sexuality. That it doesn’t define them. Being a werewolf _does_ define me. And I want you to fall in love with _me_. Not with some… human mask I wear for my protection,” Derek’s eyes were so earnest and sincere.

Stiles could see how much effort Derek was putting into explaining himself.

It was easily more words than he’d spoken in the entirety of their time together.

Stiles took a deep breath.

This was heavy shit. It was _a lot_.

It was also exciting. His life had been so boring and ordinary.

He felt alive in a way he hadn’t in a very long time.

Maybe he was being reckless. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But he wanted this. Wanted to _believe_.

So he said, “Okay. Thanks for telling me. Um… are you free for dinner on Wednesday?”

And, for the very first time, he got a wide, genuine smile from Derek. It was almost blindingly beautiful.

He was also pulled into a very deep and very excellent kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Bet you weren't expecting Derek to tell Stiles so soon.
> 
> I've read so many stories where Derek either hides the werewolf thing or mate thing for *ages*. It creates angst and narrative tension, so I get it.
> 
> But I also think about how *brutally* honest Derek was in the first season and, well, this seems in character.
> 
> "You wanna do homework? Or do you wanna not die?" -- This is the sort of guy who'd tell someone about werewolves and mates the day after meeting them.


	3. Sunday

So Stiles’ gentleman caller was a werewolf.

The unbelievably handsome, quietly shy guy he’d gone on two dates with was a _werewolf_.

As in a mythical creature of the night. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist.

But he did exist. He existed and wanted to date Stiles because he was his _mate_.

Stiles didn’t even know what that _meant_. But he wanted to find out.

Maybe it was reckless and foolish. Maybe jumping into something like this when you didn’t have all the information was a bad idea. Probably it was all of those things.

Stiles didn’t _care_. His life had been so… _boring_. So much less than what he’d dreamed about as a kid.

He’d also been lonely and alone for _so long_.

Why not have an adventure?

* * *

Feeling good about his decision to just go with it, he went to go out for coffee. His normal Sunday routine involved going for coffee then getting groceries.

He opened his door and stopped.

There was a dead rabbit on his doorstep. Surprisingly bloodless but still _dead._

Fluffy and dead. Right _there_. He gasped and his heart started racing. _Why_ was there a dead rabbit on his doorstep?

_Why?_

Then he remembered that he had a werewolf for a gentleman caller. A _werewolf._ Maybe this was some kind of courting thing? He _really_ needs to learn more about werewolves.

Well… he did say that he wanted adventure. He’s not sure what he’d expected when he’d decided to date a werewolf. Flowers?

He doesn’t want to fuck this up but the _dead_ rabbit is freaking him out. He’s not sure what to _do_ with it. Like… if he throws it away, will he be rejecting Derek? Not something he wants to accidentally do.

Stiles pulls his phone out, takes a picture, and texts it to Derek with the caption, _Did you bring me a present?_

He only has to wait a moment for a reply, _Yes._

He sighs because Derek seriously needs to do a better job at human communication, _What do I do with this?_

The reply, _Eat it._

Because _that_ wasn’t obvious or anything, _Okay… Look. I’m trying. I am. But I’m human and I need better explanations. I also have **no** idea what to do with a dead rabbit. So, this is what’s going to happen: you’re going to come over, pick up the rabbit, and take it somewhere that isn’t here because I **do not** do well with blood. Skin and butcher it. Bring me back something I can actually cook and I’ll find a recipe for bunny. I’ll make dinner and we can eat it together. Is that okay?_

Derek just sends back a terse, _Fine._

Stiles rolls his eyes and goes back inside, he needs to find a recipe before he goes to the store.

* * *

When Stiles gets back from the store, he goes to put the groceries away only to find Derek lurking in his kitchen. He basically screeches like a dying raccoon and almost flails himself into an early grave.

Derek with his werewolf reflexes manages to save Stiles and the groceries.

“Derek! Jesus. Why are you waiting for me _here?_ How did you get in? Actually, don’t tell me. You are such a creeper! Is this how you treat all your dates? If so, I now understand why someone as hot as you is still single,” Stiles rambles out as he gasps for breath.

Derek, of course, is frowning. But Stiles can see the tips of his ears are red and inwardly curses. It’s hard to stay mad at Derek because he’s so _cute_ and _adorable._ It shouldn’t be possible for the butchest man he’s ever seen to be so adorable.

Not fair.

Stiles sighs, “Dude, can you at least send me a text if you’re going to lurk in my house? So I don’t die of a heart attack?”

Derek nods and puts down the groceries. Only to crowd into Stiles’ space, sort of caging him against the wall.

And… there’s the nuzzling again. Stiles is pretty sure he’s getting a neck kink or something. The scratchy/soft scrape of Derek’s beard sends tingles down his back.

Derek mumbles, “You need better locks.”

Stiles laughs, “So I can keep out creepers like you? Probably.”

“You aren’t safe,” he growls and, okay, Stiles likes that too.

“Alright, big guy. How about you sit at the table while I put the groceries away? I think we need to have a little talk about what, exactly, it means for me to date a werewolf. Who’s apparently my mate. I’m sort of just rolling with things right now but… I like to be prepared. If I’d known to expect dead animals, it wouldn’t have almost sent me into a panic attack this morning,” Stiles is about to continue, not paying much attention to Derek as he puts things away.

He hears a whine, it’s a wounded noise. It makes him stop and look at Derek, whose eyes are big and limpid, looking sad and regretful.

Stiles walks over and cups Derek’s cheek, “It’s fine. I accepted it, didn’t I? But I really do need you to tell me about these things, okay? It’ll make things easier for both of us.”

Derek nods and Stiles goes back to putting the groceries away.

“There are… steps. For courting a mate. It starts with hunting and showing you I can provide. Then I need to demonstrate my ability to protect you. Next my ability to provide shelter,” Derek says.

Stiles thinks it over, “How long does each step last? Like… should I expect a lot more dead animals? Because, if I should, could you please skin and butcher them _before_ giving them to me? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

“Maybe. There are no rules, not really. Lots of things with werewolves are about instinct. If you’re satisfied, I’ll know it and my instincts will guide me to the next step. I needed you to see the animal. So you know I hunted it. But maybe I can send a picture? Then bring the meat,” Derek says.

Stiles finished putting the groceries away and has been leaning against the counter, “That works. Where’s the rabbit meat? I want to start marinating it. I found a recipe that looks good. I’m not really the best cook but I can usually manage.”

* * *

The afternoon with Derek is fantastic. Easily one of Stiles’ best.

For all his scowls and apparent aversion to talking – unless Stiles is poking and prodding him into it – Derek is really great company.

Just like on their date – jesus, was it only two days ago? – Stiles babbles and rambles and Derek listens. Asks a few questions every so often. Even talks a little about himself.

Most of all, though, he _listens._ It still amazes Stiles because no one – including his dad and Scott – has ever listened to Stiles. Not like this.

Not only can Derek follow his conversational twists but he seems to remember everything Stiles talks about. So when Stiles circles back to a topic, he’s right there waiting to resume it.

It’s incredibly flattering. Stiles thinks that if this is Derek’s seduction technique, it’s working like a charm.

Stiles is also surprised at how open Derek is. Sure, he doesn’t talk a lot but he answers Stiles’ questions. With almost brutal honesty.

Stiles asks about that and Derek says that wolves can almost always tell when you’re lying. He’d been born a wolf and grew up in a pack. He’d never really learned to lie. Didn’t see the point.

Something in his life has taught him discretion, Stiles can tell. It’s why Derek is so quiet. If you can’t lie, then saying nothing is the best option.

He isn’t reticent with Stiles, though. He guesses it’s probably because of the mate thing.

Getting to know Derek is… wonderful. He’s seriously awesome and one of the best people Stiles has ever met.

* * *

When the stew is finished, they sit down for dinner. Derek is _very_ insistent that Stiles take the first bite.

He’s never had rabbit before and it’s surprisingly good, “Hey, this isn’t so bad. Um, good job with the rabbit? I feel fully confident in your ability to provide for me.”

Derek gives him the most adorably shy smile and Stiles feels his heart take a little tumble. Right into the void.

He’s falling for this guy. Werewolf guy. They’ve spent enough time together, so far, that Stiles is finding it easier to look past Derek’s dazzling good looks. To the shy and kind of awkward man underneath. Well, okay, the shy and awkward _wolf_ underneath.

Stiles doesn’t really forget that Derek’s a wolf. Especially not now that Derek isn’t bothering to hide his not-so-human behaviour. Not when they’re currently eating a meal that Derek hunted. And not with a gun or something, but with his _teeth._

So, no, he doesn’t forget. It’s just hard to adjust his worldview to include werewolves.

He keeps going, “I’m happy that my meagre cooking skills didn’t fail me with this stew.”

Derek just sort of grunts, “It’s good.”

“Thanks, dude. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with cooking. My dad’s useless in the kitchen and, well, was too busy working even if he hadn’t been. So after my mom died, I tried to pick up the cooking. Especially since my dad didn’t have the best cholesterol. I was _terrified_ of losing him too–”

“How old were you?” Derek cuts in to ask.

“Oh, nine? Yeah. Around then,” he sees Derek’s eyebrows scrunch down in a scowl, “Anyway, the problem was that _I_ didn’t know how to cook. I did the best I could. Tried to make healthy meals for my dad. But I was a kid and had no real idea what went into a healthy diet, so my cooking never got all that good. Okay, I’ll be honest, it was _terrible_ and I totally understand why my dad complained all the time. So, like, I liked cooking for my dad because I loved him. But it was also such a _chore._ Not easy balancing that and extra chores with school. Not when you have ADHD. Then I moved out and, well, my main motivation for cooking was gone and it was a _relief_ not to have to do it anymore. I’ve learned how to make a few decent meals, since eating out all the time sucks. But there are a lot of sandwiches and stuff.”

Stiles wondered at what point it would stop surprising him how easy it was to talk to Derek. Sure, he could talk like a pro but… he rarely talked about things like his mom. Or the stuff with his dad.

He loved his dad. Always would. But the man had been a beloved public figure and Stiles had felt bad whenever he said anything negative about him, not wanting him to lose votes. As much as he’d loved his dad, their home life hadn’t been the best. He was old enough to both recognize and admit it. Even if it was just to himself.

He could tell from Derek’s eyebrows that he didn’t approve. Which was kind of hilarious. Even with Derek’s ease in his company, the guy did _not_ have the most expressive face. Except for his eyebrows.

“Man, you have the most expressive eyebrows,” Stiles said, wanting to lighten the mood.

Derek gave a low, mock growl and made an exaggerated angry face. Stiles burst out laughing because, holy shit, Derek was funny when he was being silly.

It did lighten the mood.

There was a lot of laughing after that, both of them being silly and playful.

It was fun in a way Stiles hadn’t expected from Derek. In a way he didn’t think should be possible on a third date (even if it was their third date in as many days).

His heart was falling and Stiles was enjoying the ride. Embracing the adventure. Not scared or anxious or insecure the way his other forays into dating had made him feel.

Just falling and laughing because this was _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Derek. Again with the dead animals?


	4. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to address a comment in case anyone is worried: there is absolutely *no* angst in this story. Not even a little.
> 
> (I know I sometimes have trouble continuing stories when I'm anxious about bad things happening, if I'm not in the mood for it.)

Stiles had _really_ wanted Derek to spend the night. But… it’d been a Sunday and he had to work in the morning. He wasn’t sixteen anymore and wasn’t willing (or able) to stay up late and function the next day.

His job was tedious enough that he _would_ fall asleep if he wasn’t well-rested. And his supervisor had the uncanny knack for showing up _just_ when you were nodding off.

So, Derek had left. After some serious making out in the entryway. Also after leaving a _giant_ hickey. One that was _barely_ covered by his dress shirt. His office wasn’t super formal since the management recognized that they were grunt workers and that they didn’t get paid enough to afford suits and the like.

Stiles would’ve worn a tie if that wouldn’t have made it even _more_ obvious that he was covering up a hickey.

Ultimately, he decided to just go with it. He’d lost his ability to be embarrassed a long time ago. When you were a clumsy kid, you either learned to roll it or suffered eternal shame.

He’d learned to roll with it.

Also, if Stiles were being honest, he _liked_ the hickey. Liked the sense of possession. Liked that there was a very hot, sexy wolf out there who wanted _everyone_ to know he’d claimed Stiles.

Stiles had spent a lot of his life feeling unwanted (or like a burden). Having someone who cared enough to mark him up was, well, _awesome_.

* * *

He usually stopped at the cafe on his way to work. He _could_ make coffee at home but this was a small way for him to have a little human contact. He already spent too much time alone.

It was when he was exiting his car that he finally noticed a very conspicuous Camaro. One that had been following since he’d left home. He’d been too sleep dazed to really register it.

Derek strutted up to him and opened the cafe door. Stiles… went with it. Let Derek push and prod him into the line. Let Derek pay for his coffee.

He figured it was Derek providing for him.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to react to the apparent stalking but… as his dad said, once is a happenstance.

* * *

Derek showing up for his lunch hour was a coincidence.

* * *

Derek following him home was a pattern.

Especially since Derek didn’t try to interact with Stiles.

Their next date was on Wednesday and it looked like Derek interpreted this to mean that they weren’t really supposed to talk until then.

Except for the fact they were texting.

Turned out that Derek was more verbose in text. So they were engaging in the kind of discussions they didn’t have in person, since it seemed Derek’s social awkwardness was really about face-to-face interactions.

With this in mind, Stiles opened his IM app.

 **Stiles:** So… should I be worried about the stalking?

 **Derek:** No.

 **Stiles:** Derek. What did we discuss about you telling me about wolfy stuff? So I can be prepared? What’s with the stalking?

 **Derek:** I need to make sure you’re safe.

 **Stiles:** Okay… This is the next step for courting, right? Did we really finish the first step that quickly?

 **Derek:** Yes. It was dinner last night. You weren’t lying when you said you had faith in my ability to provide. It satisfied my instincts.

 **Stiles:** Does this mean that you’re just going to… what? Follow me around? Don’t you have a job? Is there, perhaps, a less creepy way for you to provide protection?

 **Derek:** …  
**Derek:** I don’t need to work. And, maybe. I’ll think about it. Can I– Do you want me to stop?

 **Stiles:** If I tell you to stop stalking me, will your instincts interpret it as a rejection?

 **Derek:** I don’t know. Maybe.

 **Stiles:** Okay. How about – instead of following me – you pick me up for work and take me home? It’s less creepy that way.

 **Derek:** Really? Are you sure? I know this is… a lot. I’m fucking this up. While it isn’t common, wolves do mate with humans. Maybe I should ask my family.

 **Stiles:** You’re doing fine, sourwolf. Turns out that I find your failwolf ways charmingly romantic.

* * *

Stiles wondered about the whole thing. If he was making a mistake. If he was just letting himself be flattered by an attractive guy after years of loneliness.

He knew what his dad would say about Derek’s behaviour. It wasn’t normal. It was a red flag.

_If he was human._

But Derek wasn’t human. It made Stiles wonder if – at any point – Derek had been better at pretending. Then again, Derek had told him the truth about his werewolfiness so that Stiles could get to know the real Derek Hale. Maybe Derek _could_ fake being human better but wasn’t bothering because Stiles knew his secret.

He wondered if there was something wrong with him that he enjoyed Derek’s attention. The stalking was creepy.

 _Should_ be creepy.

But…

It’d been a _really_ long time since anyone cared enough to ask about his plans, much less make sure that he was safe.

He felt like he _mattered._ Cherished and, yes, _protected._ Stiles didn’t generally feel unsafe. But there was something weirdly comforting knowing that a mythical monster was lurking in the shadows ready to tear any threat into pieces.

Yeah. There was something wrong with him.

Maybe that’s what made him right for Derek.

* * *

He was wondering what he was going to do for dinner when he heard scratching at his back door. Opening it, he did _not_ expect to see a giant black wolf.

Who _would?_

A giant black wolf who appeared to have a bag of takeout in his mouth.

“Seriously, dude?” Stiles asked as he opened the door to let Derek in.

Derek trotted in, dropped the food, and shifted. Right _there_ in Stiles’ kitchen. One moment an enormous black wolf, the next a very naked and muscular back. Muscles flexing and a three-spiral tattoo between the shoulder blades. And Stiles wasn’t sure he could process the existence of an ass that nice. Or the _thighs_. Thick and hairy and, wow, okay, his pants were feeling tight.

Stiles watched, stunned, as Derek stretched himself out and turned. Still naked. Apparently very much unconcerned about the fact. He guessed it was good to know what he’d be working with, so to speak. He supposed if he had a body like Derek’s – endowment included – he wouldn’t be ashamed to be naked too.

“Um… you’re very naked right now,” Stiles managed to get out as Derek stepped close and pulled him in. Tucking his head into Stiles’ neck to breathe and scent. Rubbing his beard.

Derek just grunted in reply.

“Is this a thing I should expect? You being naked? I guess I could get used to it but…” Stiles trails off because, well, there’s some _rubbing_ going on.

“It’s normal,” Derek finally says as he pulls back.

“Ah… what’s normal, exactly?” Stiles wonders as he’s distracted by Derek’s very muscular and hairy chest.

“Being naked. Wearing clothes while shifting is awkward,” Derek says.

“I see. For the sake of my human modesty, can you put on some clothes? You can borrow some of mi–” and Derek’s hurrying off to his room.

He comes back after a few moments, wearing some of the clothes Stiles _knows_ he put in the hamper. Almost every seam is being strained by Derek’s muscles.

“You could’ve picked something clean,” Stiles tells him.

Derek responds, “These smell like you.”

Stiles shrugs because he’s not going to complain about having _less_ laundry to do.

* * *

Dinner with Derek is good. Although, this time Stiles finally feels confident enough to ask some serious questions.

Derek is obviously being _very_ intense about the whole werewolf courting thing and Stiles wants to stop feeling so… off-guard. So he decides to get some basic werewolf information.

“So… how does one become a werewolf, exactly? I totally need to know more about this and you, man,” Stiles begins.

“Two ways, being bitten or born. I’m a born wolf. So is most of my family,” Derek says, clearly using as few words to convey the most information.

“Does this mean I should strike biting off of my kink list with you? Not ideal but I’m not sure about me becoming a werewolf,” Stiles says.

“I’m a beta, can’t turn you. Only an alpha can, they have red eyes,” Derek says as his eyes start glowing a vibrant blue. It’s a really pretty colour.

“Oh. Cool, I guess. I do like my biting,” Stiles does _not_ fail to notice how intrigued Derek looks by that idea, “So you have an alpha? It sounds like you don’t follow wild wolf pack dynamics…”

“No. Werewolves have alphas and betas. Betas can be unrelated. Omegas are lone wolves, they don’t have a pack. They’re usually dangerous,” Derek explains.

“Who’s your alpha?” Stiles _loves_ learning about new things and this is easily the coolest thing _ever_.

“My mom,” Derek tells him.

“Huh. Does this mean that alpha status isn’t dependent on physical strength? You know, since men tend to be physically stronger?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Yes and no. My mom _is_ physically stronger than everyone in the pack because she’s the alpha. My sister is physically stronger than me, even though we’re both betas. She’s next in line to be the alpha. Our strength is just as much physical as it is magical. We are supernatural. Logical and scientific concepts don’t always apply.”

“Now _that’s_ fascinating and so fucking _cool_. Man, I’m seeing that I’m going to have to let go of a lot of my assumptions about how the world works.”

* * *

Derek leaves not long after that, telling Stiles that he’ll pick him up in the morning. This way he’s driving Stiles to work, instead of stalking him. Much more acceptable and significantly less alarming.

Stiles was right, though, his conversation with Derek has given him _a lot_ to think about. Particularly regarding his assumptions about the world.

He hasn’t thought deeply about what Derek said – jesus, was that just a few days ago? – when he’d told Stiles about werewolves and mates. Derek had said that he isn’t human. Has _never_ been human.

It’s important in ways that Stiles hasn’t really thought about. It also seems especially important in dating – or whatever he’s doing – Derek. For whatever reason, Derek doesn’t seem especially proficient at pretending to be human. Stiles thinks that not all wolves can be like that, otherwise they wouldn’t blend so well as to go unseen. Stiles wonders if other wolves courting humans would know better than to bring an actual carcass to their intended’s door.

Either way, it’s the sort of thing _Derek_ thought was appropriate.

Derek isn’t human.

_Derek isn’t human._

That matters. This is something more than Derek being quirky or idiosyncratic. It makes Stiles feel very unsure because he can’t expect Derek to think and react in predictable ways. Can’t assume that either of them will interpret things even remotely the same.

Sure, you can’t know what other people are _really_ thinking. But human behaviour does fall within certain predictable parameters. Stiles feels like he vaguely remembers some thriller or horror movie where leaving a dead rabbit for someone was a _threat_. No human is likely to _ever_ leave a dead animal as a way to _woo_ someone.

It makes him realize that he really needs to talk to Derek about this. Learn more about courting and what it’ll mean to be in a relationship with a werewolf. He’s asked some questions so he’s not totally in the dark but he keeps getting distracted by how easy and good being with Derek feels.

Because – for all that it’s been weird – Stiles _likes_ Derek. And it isn’t just about his looks – not that the fact that he’s ridiculously hot hurts the situation.

Derek is super intense and looks like he’d be full of anger or something. But he’s been endearingly eager and surprisingly open. Stiles also has to respect and appreciate his honesty. The amount of trust and faith he’d given to Stiles by telling him his biggest secret on their _second_ date?

It just showcases that Derek is a fundamentally decent person.

It’s been a wild ride so far and Stiles doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want his ignorance to ruin something that could be great. Doesn’t want to fuck this up.

So he’ll learn more.

And _won’t_ get distracted by Derek’s thighs or his personality or his _everything._


	5. Tuesday

Stiles starts the day feeling bright and optimistic in a way that he hasn’t for a _very_ long time. He’s been firmly shaken out of the mundane routine he’d been sucked into. Lulled into by a shitty nine-to-five job and everyday life.

He’s going to shower and get ready. Then a handsome wolf will come knocking at his door, to escort him about his day.

It’s ridiculous and Stiles feels silly for enjoying it so much. He’s a full-grown man and shouldn’t take so much pleasure from being treated like a lady.

He showers and gets dressed, humming the entire time.

Just as he’s finishing, he hears a knock. He wonders if Derek has been waiting and listening to knock at the right moment. Stiles supposes he should just be glad that Derek didn’t climb through his window.

Stiles answers the door and Derek takes his breath away. His black hair is soft and touchable. Stiles wants to rub his face all over his beard. He’s wearing a sinfully tight v-neck that shows curls of hair. Sunglasses and a smile bright enough that Stiles wishes he was wearing some too.

He’s dazzling and it seems like it should be impossible for him to be here, bearing what looks like to be coffee and breakfast.

Stiles lets Derek in and follows him to the kitchen. After Derek’s put everything down, Stiles just sort of pounces. Hugging him tightly. Feeling the soft/scratch of his beard. The tickle of his chest hair. The rumble that vibrates through Derek’s chest is approving and makes him a little weak at the knees.

Derek’s arms are firm around him. Just the right amount of pressure to support him without feeling confined. He takes the moment to suck what is going to be another glorious hickey on Stiles’ neck.

They share a slow, sweet kiss and Stiles feels like he’s fallen just a little further.

* * *

Derek tells him that he’ll get Stiles for lunch on the way to his work.

When he shows up, he has an honest-to-god _picnic basket_ and they eat in a nearby park. Stiles finds the contrast of Derek – bad boy extraordinaire – carrying a picnic basket too funny for words.

It’s also sweet and romantic in a way he hadn’t expected.

The werewolf courting stuff has been… interesting so far but not so much with the romantic. At least not in a traditional sense. Stiles is definitely feeling wooed and romanced, that’s for sure.

The sun is shining and Derek looks beautiful in the sunlight. Well, he looks beautiful all the time.

When Derek tells _Stiles_ that he looks beautiful in the sunlight, Stiles – for the first time in his life – _believes_ him.

Derek isn’t a charmer. He’s not suave. He has no game.

It’s easy to believe his quiet, earnest compliments. Especially when Derek always looks so shy and uncertain when he gives them. Like he’s confessing a secret that he’s afraid Stiles will use against him.

It makes Stiles wonder what happened to make Derek so… uncertain and vulnerable. Or if he’s always been like this and that’s why people have tried to take advantage.

Stiles wants to fight the world to protect him. Shelter him so that Derek never feels like he has to hide his softness.

* * *

While they’re eating dinner, Stiles decided it was time to ask some serious questions. Because he didn’t want to fuck this up, “I think you really need to tell me more about what being your mate _means_. What I can expect from being in a relationship with you. Because… by human standards, I should be calling the cops on you. Or be worried about getting into an abusive relationship. You’re throwing up a _lot_ of red flags that I’ve been working hard to ignore. But… if this stuff keeps surprising me, I can’t promise that I won’t panic and run,” Stiles tells Derek, _really_ hoping that he listens and understands. Stiles feels like he’s done a really good job of rolling with everything but… He does have anxiety and used to have panic attacks. Not knowing the rules or what to expect is a good way to send him into one – especially if Derek’s behaviour becomes even more alarming.

Derek’s nostrils flair and a small whine emits from the back of his throat. Stiles guesses that his senses are conveying Stiles’ anxiety, “Sorry. I don’t spend much time with humans. Not since a hunter used me to try and kill my family. It’s hard to put my instincts into words. Especially before I act on them. I do understand that stalking you isn’t right. I’ll try to think of a way to satisfy my instinct to protect you.”

Stiles nods, “Okay, that’s good. It’s a start. But… I still need to know more about what to expect. About how being with you would be different than being with a human.”

Derek looks like he’s struggling with his words, “I’m– I’m afraid that you’ll reject me if I tell you everything my instincts drive me to do or want.”

“I get that. I do. But I’m much more likely to reject you if you _don’t_ tell me. Look, you told me you were a werewolf at the beginning so that I’d know who I was dating. This is part of that. From what I can understand, your instincts are an important part of you,” Derek nods, “So I need to know about them. As much as I’m trying to be understanding that you’re a werewolf, you need to understand that I’m human. I don’t have the same instincts. So I need you to tell me. Like… I don’t even know what being your mate means in regards to your pack. Do I become pack? Because that’s a different kind of commitment. You see what I mean?”

It takes a long moment before Derek nods again, “I’ll be more possessive – maybe territorial is a better word – than a human partner. Not jealous, necessarily, but there are things I’ll need to do to satisfy my instincts. So that we both know you’re mine. But… I’ll be yours just as much. I’ll need the same sort of… possessiveness to feel secure. The marking, the hickey, is an example. Scent marking will be important, especially for me, since you can’t leave hickeys. It’s why I wanted to wear your dirty clothes. They make me smell like you. Make me smell like I’m yours.”

Stiles interjects, “Is this why you rub your face into the crook of my neck? Should I be doing the same?”

Derek shudders a little, eyes yearning, “Yes. Touching and sharing clothes transfers scent but… scent marking is more for werewolves. Magic, again. It’s about intent. You transfer scent with the intent to claim me, like I do with you–”

Stiles leans forward, wanting to try this. He lifts a hand and caresses Derek’s neck. Thinks about how he wants this amazing man to be _his_. How much he’d love to have a claim.

He can see that it does _something_ to Derek, who’s closed his eyes. His face looks the most relaxed that Stiles has ever seen. When he opens his eyes, they’re glowing and his pupils are blown, he gives a low growl and hauls Stiles into his lap, scent-marking him in return.

This goes on for long moments before Stiles speaks up again, “See? This is helping, isn’t it? If you’d started being super possessive without explaining anything to me, it might’ve been too much. As much as I want to be understanding, I can’t be in a relationship that I’ve been raised to understand as abusive. First the stalking, then possessiveness that sounds like isolating me from other people? I might not have any friends but I need the freedom to see them if I get some.”

Derek sighs, “That’s fine. It might be different if any of them scent mark you. Especially in a romantic way but I’ll just ask that you don’t let them touch you. But… with friends and family that _you’ve_ claimed as yours, it won’t be an issue if they claim you back. I can smell your father and… another man? A close friend. They’re like your pack to me. Although, to answer an earlier question, if you mate with me, you’ll join my pack. They’ll also want to claim you.”

“Cool. It would honestly be _awesome_ to have more people in my life. Dad and Scott moved away and I’m not great at making friends. I guess I’ll have to meet them. For now, though, what else should I know about you and this courting process?” Stiles says.

“After we mate – _if we mate_ – a lot of my instincts will settle. No more stalking, unless I have good reason to think you need protection. From what I’ve observed of human relationships, the only other thing that I can think of that you might have trouble with is how far my instinct to provide goes. How driven I am to take care of you. Finances in general. That always seems to cause conflict between humans. The pack shares resources. Money. Everything. We keep some of our income for ourselves but most goes to the pack. Anyone can use it to buy larger things like houses or pay for college. No one goes without and no one takes more than they need. I want you to quit your job. You hate it. You don’t need to work at all, if you don’t want to. If you do want to work, then we find something you enjoy. You’ll have the freedom to choose, since you won’t need to worry about money,” Derek says. It’s the closest to rambling Stiles has ever seen him get.

And he understands why. They hadn’t been poor, exactly, growing up. But his dad had taught him that a man worked for what he wanted. That men stood on their own two feet. Didn’t accept charity or handouts. It was macho bullshit but… it was hard to overcome that kind of socialization.

Stiles thinks that, without adequate warning, explanation, or time to think, he would’ve balked at Derek’s desire to financially support him. His desire for Stiles to quit his job just because he hated it.

“That’s… good to know. Also something I’ll need time to think about. Time to adjust. You’re right that finances are one of the main reasons why couples break up. So I do have to ask, how big of a problem would it be if I don’t quit my job and insist on being able to support myself? Would you break up with me?” Stiles needs to know.

Derek looks puzzled, “No. Mates can’t break up. It’s for life–”

He doesn’t get much further because Stiles bursts in with, “Hold on! Did you just say that mates are for _life?_ I don’t remember you telling me this before.”

“Oh. Yes. If we mate, it’s for life. It creates a bond that can’t be broken,” Derek says all this like it’s obvious and not at all alarming.

“Derek! _This_ is definitely the sort of thing you need to tell me. It’s scary! It’s a giant commitment. One more important than marriage, from what you’re saying,” Stiles has to take a deep breath because he can see the distress on Derek’s face. Hear it in the small whimpers, “I don’t mean to shout. I just… I have anxiety, okay? This kind of thing kind of hits my panic button. I like you and I don’t want to fuck this up. Maybe… maybe you should go so I can think and calm down.”

Derek looks even more distressed after Stiles says this, so Stiles goes with what feels right. He wants to reassure Derek that this isn’t a rejection. That Stiles isn’t mad.

So he wraps his arms around Derek and rubs his face. He thinks about how he doesn’t want to let go. How – despite how intense this is – he still wants Derek. Wants Derek to be _his_. Wants to be Derek’s.

Something in the scent or intent seems to get through to Derek because he clings back but his muscles relax. He stops whining. Eventually he pulls away and, shit, his eyes are all soft and sad looking.

“I’ll see you tomorrow when you pick me up for work,” Stiles says.

It seems to lift Derek’s spirit even more. He sets his jaw and nods briskly.

* * *

Stiles knew he’d been right to ask for some space. It gave him time to freak out a little over the fact that mates were _for life._

It was a huge commitment. Something a lot more than just dating or boyfriends. Or even marriage.

He also got to spend some quality time cursing Derek and his not-so-stellar communication. Stiles was going to have to work hard to train him into better communication.

The thing that surprised Stiles the most though…

Was how, after about a half-hour of freaking out, he was pretty okay with the idea of forever with Derek.

Maybe not now but… eventually, yeah.

Derek was amazing and it was so _easy_ being with him – shitty communication aside. And even that wasn’t that big of a problem. It _would be_ if Derek was purposefully hiding things. He just seemed… to not realize what a human would and wouldn’t know. Too used to operating on instinct.

The important thing was that when Stiles _did_ ask questions, he always gave a straightforward and honest answer.

Derek said he didn’t spend a lot of time with humans and Stiles believed it. It was hard to stay mad when Stiles realized that a lot of their communication problems boiled down to the fact that they weren’t the same species or whatever you wanted to call it.

On his side of things, after Derek told him about scent marking, he’d been able to communicate with Derek in a way that appeased his instincts. He just needed to get Derek to volunteer more information and they could keep working at it.

A work in progress.

He felt better about everything.

For all the strangeness of werewolf courting, this was still a relationship. Or would be. And they were still getting to know each other. The relationship would take work and compromise on both sides.

Stiles was tenacious and not known for giving up. He wasn’t going to give up on this.

Not when he had the chance at forever with the best man he’d ever met.


	6. Wednesday

Stiles decides he’s been too passive in this whole courting thing. He texts Derek not to bring breakfast because he’s going to make one for them. He doesn’t go all out because he has to get to work but the breakfast sandwiches he makes are delicious and Derek seems blissed out as he devours his.

Then again, Derek’s been looking blissed out since Stiles scent marked him at the door. Between last night and this morning, Stiles is _really_ starting to understand the importance of it to Derek.

It makes Derek happy in a way that their previous affectionate touches hadn’t. Sure, Stiles could tell he enjoyed them but not in the same way as the scent marking.

It relaxes Derek in a way that their kisses never do (although, Stiles supposes that kisses aren’t really intended for relaxation).

When they get outside, the sky is a little overcast and Stiles has a moment to wonder if he should go inside and get a coat. But then Derek has a warm hand at the small of his back and his guiding him to his car.

* * *

Derek tells Stiles he has a surprise for him at lunch. They don’t go on a picnic this time because the sky has darkened and it looks like it might rain.

Derek seems to have a particular destination in mind. Of all the places Stiles had expected to end up, it isn’t at a vet’s.

He follows Derek in and is introduced, “Deaton, this is Stiles. Stiles, Deaton.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek’s characteristic terseness.

“Ah, Mr. Stilinski. It’s a pleasure,” Deaton says in a calm voice and with a placid smile.

Dude’s so calm it’s kind of creepy, “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too, I guess. Um… why am I meeting you?” Stiles wonders.

“Derek asked if I could provide some books about werewolf lore, culture, and courting practices. For some mountain ash as well. I wanted to get a feel for you before handing over expensive books. May I read your aura?” Deaton explains.

“My… aura. Wait. Is this a _magic_ thing? Is magic _real?_ ” Stiles demands

“It is,” is Deaton’s less than helpful reply.

“Okay, um, read away?” Stiles says, unsure.

Deaton just looks at him for a long moment before he speaks to Derek, “You’ve chosen well. Stiles will be a great mate for you. He also seems to have a bit of a spark.”

“And that means…?” Stiles prods.

Deaton turns to him, “Just that, with some training, you might be capable of magic yourself. I’ll add a primer to the books I’m loaning you. The first lesson we’ll do now, with the mountain ash, since it blocks supernatural energy. It can be used to create a barrier between wolves and yourself. Good for protection. Mundane people can use it to create a circle but you should be able to do this,” Deaton takes a small handful and tosses it into the air. It lands in a perfect circle around Derek, who growls and pushes at the barrier.

It’s easily the coolest thing Stiles has ever seen. But he doesn’t want Derek trapped and everyone’s surprised when Derek pops through.

Deaton almost has a facial expression and everything!

“Well. Your spark might be stronger than I thought, if you could break the barrier like that. Try to make a circle. The key is belief. Be the spark,” Deaton says as he drops a handful of mountain ash into Stile’s open hand.

The explanation is largely useless but Stiles knows it’s possible, so he firms his resolve and tosses the ash into the air. It lands in a neat circle around him.

“Holy shit! I’m magic! This is the best thing _ever_ ,” Stiles pumps his fist and glomps onto Derek for a hug, rubbing his face on Derek’s beard as a ‘thank you’.

Even Deaton has a small smile. He hands over the jar of mountain ash and a few books.

On their way back to Stiles’ work he has to ask, “Why did you take me there? Did you know I’d be magic?”

Derek shakes his head, “I didn’t know. I knew you were special but I didn’t expect that. You told me you have anxiety and it helps you to know what to expect. The books will help with that. Better than I could, anyway. It’s the best way I could think of to offer protection. Forwarned is forearmed and all that.”

Stiles sits back, a little stunned. Even his _dad_ never tried to work _with_ Stiles’ anxiety like that. He was a bigger fan of telling Stiles to get over it and not make allowances.

It’s sweet and thoughtful and, well, he falls just that much farther in love.

The magic thing is also _really_ awesome.

* * *

It’s raining when Stiles leaves work that night. Derek is a gallant gentleman and offers his leather jacket to him.

Stiles only weakly protests. He wants to wear the jacket.

When he puts it on, it’s like being hugged by Derek. Warm and smells so much like him. Stiles has never had a leather kink but…

No, it’s just Derek.

This time, they’re going to Derek’s place. He still hasn’t seen it.

“Most wolves tend to stay with their family or pack. I still regularly sleep at my parent’s but I wanted a space of my own. I love my pack but it’s big. And noisy. I’m the black sheep,” Derek says as they drive over.

Stiles laughs, “A wolf in black sheep’s clothing? Given your chosen colour palette, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean,” he growls.

“I do. How are you the black sheep?” Stiles wants to know.

“You’ll see me at dinner tomorrow. They’re loud and mostly extroverted. You’ll fit right in,” Derek offhandedly remarks as he parks the car.

“I think you forgot the part where you told me we were having dinner with your family, sourwolf,” Stiles is almost getting used to Derek’s habit of just dropping these little bombs. He can tell Derek doesn’t do it intentionally. It makes him wonder if Derek is always saying a lot more in his head that never quite makes it out.

Something that makes sense, he muses as they get into an elevator. If his family is outgoing and the dude is clearly an introvert, he probably got used to staying quiet even when he had something to say.

His comment makes Derek tense, “Did I? Shit. I’m sorry. I keep doing that. My alpha and pack want to meet my chosen mate. They’ve scented you on me the past few days and they’re curious.”

Stiles just hums as they entire into the top floor apartment. Heavy metal door sliding open to reveal a large loft. It’s sparsely furnished but the windows are large and the space is beautifully lit, “Wow. This place is great. Unsurprisingly minimalist.”

Derek grunts as he shuts the door and Stiles finds himself pressed up against a wall, “You smell so good in my jacket. The way our scents mingle…”

They haven’t had sex yet for some unknown reason. But the hard length of Derek’s erection is pressing against him and Stiles thinks that, yes, now feels like the perfect time. He gasps and Derek grinds in a little.

That seems to switch something in Derek and he growls as he easily lifts Stiles up. And, okay, hello to Stiles’ new strength and manhandling kink. It’s unbelievably hot that Derek can just _lift_ him like that. That he can carry Stiles up the spiral staircase like he weighs nothing.

He gets dropped into a bed and he immediately starts stripping off his clothes. Derek is moving just as quickly.

Stiles has already seen Derek naked. But it’s different when he’s flushed and hard. All that muscular flesh covered by hair. Not _too_ much but enough to create a pleasant texture to run his hands over.

To rub his body against.

It’s pretty much all they do. Derek pounces on him and they can’t seem to stop kissing. Mostly grinding against each other as they make out. Cocks sliding against each other.

It’s really awesome.

When Derek takes them both in his hand, it doesn’t take long before Stiles is coming. Derek follows soon after.

Stiles watches with amusement as Derek proceeds to rub their mixed come into his skin. Stiles remembers what Derek said about scent-marking, so he scoops some up and rubs it into Derek’s skin.

It’s the right thing to do. Derek shudders and his eyes close in pleasure. A sigh of deep content leaves his body.

Stiles is feeling relaxed and doesn’t feel much like moving. He’s never been one to insist on a shower right after sex but usually he’ll at least wipe himself off. He doesn’t this time. Maybe he can’t smell their combined scent the way Derek can but he likes the idea of it.

They’re catching their breath and Derek is lying on top of him. Heavy in the best way. Dude weighs a _ton_ and Stiles loves the warm, protected feeling he gets. Like he’s small and sheltered by Derek’s bulk and strength.

It isn’t something he thought he’d like so much. He’s been very independent since his mom died. Taking care of his dad more than he took care of Stiles.

The thing about being with Derek is that he never feels diminished. Never feels _less_.

Even now, in this moment, when he feels small, he doesn’t feel like he’s _less_ than he was before. Instead, he feels safe, protected, and cherished. He feels _important_.

* * *

Eventually hunger makes them get out of bed. Stiles is amused because Derek can’t keep his hands off him. Can’t stop greedily inhaling.

“Christ, you smell perfect. You smell like _mine_ ,” Derek growls into his neck.

Stiles laughs, breathless with amusement and all the love he’s starting to feel for this man. Wolf. Whatever.

“I don’t understand how any of this is real. My life was so… _mundane_ before you asked me out. And I’m not referring to the supernatural stuff. Even if you weren’t a werewolf, this would be rocking my world. My life had become so _boring_. I’m afraid that this isn’t real. Like I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be a dream,” Stiles confesses.

“In dreams, people have extra fingers. Count with me,” Derek touches each of Stiles’ finger and when they reach ten, he leans in for a soft kiss, “This is real. I worry too. You’ve been taking everything so well. I worry you’ll get overwhelmed or creeped out by me and my instincts. I don’t understand how someone can be so _right_ for me.”

Derek’s confession eases something in Stiles’ heart. He really doesn’t have bad self-esteem but it seems impossible for this impossible wolf to feel the same way. To be just as overwhelmed and terrified that this isn’t real.

Just as desperate to believe that it is.

Food arrives. They ordered pizza because it was easy and they were ravenous.

Dinner is fun and lighthearted in a way that it never was before. It’s always been easy with Derek but this feels… settled in a way it didn’t before.

It’s not the sex, Stiles knows. It eased a particular kind of tension but it’s more than that… they’ve cleared up a lot of the other stuff. The unknown. Yesterday’s talk had been scary and hard but so very necessary.

Because it had led to this. This comfort and ease. This warmth and laughter.

Stiles vows to himself that he’ll keep having those difficult discussions. That he won’t do his usual thing of trying to ignore a problem until it goes away.

This is too important.


	7. Thursday

Stiles wakes up in Derek’s bed. He _does_ insist on a shower because he’s going to work. But he doesn’t protest when Derek quickly jerks off and rubs come into his clean skin.

That’s okay. Body odour is _not_ okay.

It’s a little itchy and uncomfortable but Stiles likes the way it makes him feel a little dirty. Especially likes the way it makes him feel claimed.

It’s a little weird but he’s come to embrace that. Derek’s a werewolf and apparently Stiles is magic.

Weird is his life.

So far it’s much better than what it was before he met Derek.

* * *

The day is long and tedious and he’s glad to see Derek after work.

It’s curious to Stiles because normally he’d be an anxious mess. He’s done the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing in the past and it always made him a wreck.

But…

Whatever had settled between them last night is still there. He feels confident and secure in this relationship that’s less than a week old. Isn’t really worried as they drive out to the preserve to have dinner with Derek’s pack.

He’s actually excited more than anxious. He’s meeting a _werewolf pack_. _Derek’s_ pack. And maybe Stiles’ too, if they end up mating.

(Something Stiles is pretty sure will happen. The way things are going, he already wants to spend the rest of his life with Derek. He’s still human, though. This all feels too _fast_. But he doesn’t want to slow down.)

They pull up to a large, beautiful house. It’s surrounded by trees and forest and pretty much exactly the sort of place you’d expect to find a pack of werewolves.

* * *

Derek’s hand is guiding him on the small of his back as they enter the house.

Stiles knows, from what Derek’s told him about werewolf senses, that they all heard them arrive. Already know they’re there.

So he isn’t surprised to see rows of faces looking expectantly in the entrance. He can practically see them all inhale as one to catch his scent properly.

The Hales are all beautiful. Not surprising given how Derek looks. But it’s a bit irritating. They’re already werewolves, do they also have to have an absurd amount of beauty?

It didn’t help that there were considerably more naked people than Stiles was used to seeing. Fortunately, his experience with Derek earlier in the week had prepared him a little for casual nudity.

It was still _super_ distracting.

“So, Der-bear, this is your new honey?” A woman all but purrs. Stiles pegs her as a sister. She and Derek look similar and he’s pretty sure that Derek’s mom would _not_ say that.

He snorts all the same, “Oh my, god. Der-bear and _honey?_ That’s hilarious.”

She smiles wickedly, “I like you already.”

“That’s enough, Laura,” an older, more stately woman says. This must be Derek’s mom. The alpha. She exudes a level of authority that has Stiles itching to bare his throat. He internally shrugs and goes it with. She smiles gently and runs her hand down his throat, “I’m so very glad to meet you. Derek’s doing a good job of teaching you pack protocol.”

(He’s mostly glad that he managed to _not_ look at her naked breasts.)

Stiles can feel Derek awkwardly shuffle, so he blurts out, “Um… yes. He has.”

Everyone starts laughing, “We know you’re lying!” a voice calls out.

Stiles blushes, “Okay, fine. He hasn’t. He did give me some books that I haven’t had time to read. It just, I don’t know, felt natural?”

“You have good instincts, then. You’ll fit in perfectly. I’m being rude, though. I’m Talia Hale. Derek’s mom and alpha. Please call me Talia.”

“I’m Stiles Stilinski. My dad used to be the sheriff. Um… it’s nice to meet you,” Stiles offers since it doesn’t look like Derek will be introducing himself anytime soon.

All of this is helping Stiles to understand Derek better. Derek’s reticence. How much trouble he had with talking.

This was pretty overwhelming.

They get pulled into the house and chaos reigned. Stiles was introduced to _a lot_ of people.

He tried to remember some of the core names. Like Laura and Cora, Derek’s sisters. Or Paul, his dad. He remembered Uncle Peter because the guy looked like a villain with his goatee. He met more of Derek’s brothers and sisters but…

It puzzled Stiles. Every person in Derek’s generation was introduced as his brother or sister. Even when it was pretty clear that they didn’t have the same parents. Like blonde and curly Isaac. Or, um, Boyd. Who is _Black_ and quite obviously _not_ Talia and Paul’s child.

Stiles decided to just roll with it. He’d ask later.

Dinner was delicious and a lot of fun. It was also exhausting, even for Stiles who thrived on crowds and people.

Part of what made it extra exhausting was the way he couldn’t stop himself from drawing attention when people seemed to poke too much at Derek. His family enjoyed teasing him and Stiles wanted to protect him. Shelter him when he could see Derek start to shut down.

None of it was mean-spirited or hurtful. Derek just seemed to get overwhelmed and could only take so much teasing.

That was when Stiles would do something to draw their attention. He was ridiculous and could talk _anyone_ under the table, so it was easy. And Derek knew what he was doing too. Every time he did it, Derek would squeeze his thigh. Or nuzzle him.

Showing him gratitude in small, wordless ways.

He asked Derek if they could take a walk and from the way Derek eagerly agreed, he was feeling the need for some space.

* * *

“I like your family, big guy. There sure are a lot of them, though. That was intense. Good, but intense,” Stiles said.

“That’s a great way to describe them. Good but intense. Packs tend to be closer than most families,” Derek replied.

They were walking down a path in the trees. It was a beautiful night. Stiles was wearing Derek’s jacket again because apparently werewolves ran hot. Or regulated their body temperature better. Or something.

“What’s with the whole brother and sister thing?” Stiles asked because he was _so curious_.

Derek shrugged, “Kids belong to the whole pack. Are raised by the whole pack. We keep track of lineages to ensure genetic diversity, otherwise, it’s a collective thing. I have more, I guess you’d call them half-brothers? And half-sisters? My dad’s sired some kids with other women in the pack.”

That made Stiles pause, “I see… Why?”

“The Hale lineage is old and powerful. We’re some of the few who can do a full-shift. Having the alpha pair produce more cubs helps keep it strong,” Derek explained.

“But… didn’t you say your dad came from outside of the pack? Like, your mom is the ‘Hale’ half of the couple?” Stiles was confused.

“Yes. Don’t forget we’re just as much magic as anything else. When my dad mated the Hale alpha, he became pack. I guess you might say his kids – even if they’re not with my mom – will carry the magical Hale lineage?” Derek said.

This was all kind of beyond the scope of Stiles’ expectations. He’d been working hard to look beyond his human assumptions. He thinks, more than anything else so far, that _this_ is what finally drives home that Derek isn’t human. That is family isn’t human,

That’s he’s part of a _pack_ and it’s not some cutesy substitute for ‘family’.

Even as the realization finally, _truly_ sinks in…

There’s nothing. No panic. No alarm. Just a calm acceptance.

There’s nothing _bad_ about the pack. Nothing wrong with how they’ve structured it. He was just there and everyone he met seemed happy.

What more could anyone ask for?

A thought does occur to him, “If you’re the only guy of your generation who came from the alpha couple, is there an expectation that you should have kids? Like… how does having another guy for a mate work?”

Derek chuckles, “I don’t _have_ to have kids. Especially if my sisters do. If they don’t… I guess my parents would hope that I sire some children. But I’ve never wanted to raise any of my own. I’ve already sired one, to a couple where the prospective dad was infertile and they desperately wanted a kid.”

That relaxes Stiles, “Oh, okay. That’s good. I don’t want kids either.”

Derek tenses up a little though, “I know this isn’t very human. I don’t have to sire any more kids, if you don’t want me to. My alphas would understand. Mates always come first.”

Stiles _really_ thinks about it. It is kind of weird to know that one of the kids he met tonight might’ve been Derek’s. Or, well, not _Derek’s_ since he only donated the genetic material. But also Derek’s because kids belong to the entire pack. He needs to stop thinking about that before it gives him a headache.

The point is whether or not he cares. If he would care in the future.

“How does the impregnation work? Like IVF?” Stiles asks.

Derek only tenses up more, “No… this has always been a part of pack life. Even before that was invented. It’s done the, um, natural way.”

“Huh. That’s… You said that mates are for life, right?” Stiles waits for Derek to nod, “Like, a kind of unbreakable bond. I’m guessing you meant that literally? Tell me more about this bond.”

“The bond is definitely real. Not a metaphor. I’ve been told it’s like a pack bond, only stronger. A magical connection to someone else. It isn’t empathic, exactly, but you can gauge your mate’s health and well-being,” Derek says and Stiles can tell he’s really struggling to find the right words.

It’s enough, though, “I think I’d be fine with it then. Maybe after more time to adjust to all of this but… yeah. If there’s some mystical moon connection that links us together, it doesn’t matter if you make a few babies. You’ll always be mine, right?” Stiles looks over, hoping he’s understood everything correctly.

Derek’s smile is wide and a little worshipful. Like’s he’s just so awed and amazed by Stiles.

“I’m bad with words. I know. I’ll never be able to tell you how happy I am that I found you. I can’t imagine meeting anyone more perfect for me,” Derek whispers into his neck, trailing kisses – and sucking another giant fucking hickey.

* * *

They leave shortly after their walk. Both of them tired and Stiles needed to work in the morning.

He was looking forward to the weekend, to spending some uninterrupted time with Derek. Maybe just laze around with him in bed the entire time.

Test out that werewolf stamina.

They parted ways when Derek dropped him off at home with a promise to be there in the morning.

Stiles entered his house. It felt emptier than it ever had after the noise of the pack.

It made him realize just how much he’d be gaining if he mated with Derek.

Sure, he’d get the guy and that was worth _everything_. But he’d also be gaining a pack. He’d have about a million brothers and sisters because that’s how it worked.

Hell, he’d have kids. He liked kids. He just didn’t want to _raise_ any. This was totally like getting the cake and eating it too.

He’d never lack for company again.

Stiles wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He’d never had an easy time making friends, Scott still being the only real friend he’d ever had. He had just as much family, his dad. Who’d been an absent father and then he’d moved away to live with his new wife.

It was so odd to think that his life could go from empty to near bursting at the seams.

And, from what he’d seen and understood, pack ran deeper than friendship and family.

He wanted that. Wanted _Derek_.

Wanted to be his mate because having an unbreakable bond sounded so reassuring. Stiles couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to always be perfectly secure in his relationship.

To always _know_ and be able to _trust_ that Derek was his. And he was Derek’s.

He counted his fingers. All ten present and accounted for.

This was real and he could have this.

His cheeks felt wet and he realized he was crying some happy tears.


	8. Friday

Stiles woke up in the morning firm in his resolve. It’d been a week since he met Derek. He wanted to do something special for him.

And, wow, what a wild week it’d been.

It was – when you first started dating someone – a little strange to spend _every day_ since your first date together.

But… the whole situation had been strange from the beginning.

From the strangely aggressive way that Derek had asked him out – okay, it was more like an order. To discovering that werewolves were real and the extra hot one you’d just met wanted to woo you and keep you for life.

_Strange._

Not bad, mind you, just… odd. Peculiar. Other synonyms for weird.

The whole thing had also been so _intense._ Not surprising considering that Derek was an intense guy.

Stiles, though, was ready to jump. His heart had been tumbling from the moment he’d turned and saw Derek.

Like… okay. He wasn’t exactly ready for mating – just like he didn’t want to marry Derek today or whatever.

But…

He wanted to commit. Start a relationship. Was ready to admit that he’d fallen in love with Derek.

He _knew_ it was too fast after only a week.

Stiles just didn’t care.

* * *

One thing about Stiles Stilinski that only a few people knew – since only a few people had bothered trying to know – was that when he committed?

He was _all in._

Stiles _hated_ his job. It was mind-numbing and soul-crushing. He hated it and didn’t want to do it anymore.

So he called in and quit. Didn’t even give them notice.

It was a huge show of trust because you didn’t just quit a job without notice. Not in this economy. Not if you wanted to work again.

Stiles had no idea what he actually wanted to do with this life. His dream had been law enforcement for so long and… he _could_ try that again. It just… It wasn’t what he really wanted.

He’d wanted to be a hero like his dad, even though he knew – better than most – that being a cop wasn’t heroic. No, it was shitty paperwork, terrible hours, and systemically oppressing people.

Not a lifestyle choice he wanted to pursue.

What he did have, according to Derek, was time to figure it out.

Stiles called Derek next to tell him that he wasn’t going to work today. But that he was going to go to the store because he wanted to make dinner for them.

It was going to be special. He was going to make pierogi.

He _loved_ them but they were time-consuming and a pain to make from scratch.

He remembered what his mom said about the dish: they were a labour of love.

* * *

Derek took him to the store and Stiles shooed him away. Derek had looked disgruntled but softened when Stiles said he wanted to do cook something special.

He spent the afternoon making pierogi. It took extra long because he was out of practice.

But he hummed along to music and thought happy thoughts about Derek and the future.

He was feeling truly optimistic for the first time in a really long while.

It was a strangely peaceful afternoon. Almost meditative and he stuffed and folded each pierogi, thinking about family, pack, love, and Derek.

* * *

Stiles laughed when he heard Derek scratch at the backdoor. It was _hours_ earlier than the time he’d told Derek to come.

He opened his backdoor to a large, Black wolf who immediately shifted into a gloriously naked Derek Hale.

He was still laughing and smiling when Derek hoisted him onto a shoulder and carried Stiles off to bed.

It was too much fun to complain about. Plus, he had enough pierogies for dinner at least. Well, maybe. Werewolves ate _a lot_.

The last time they’d had sex it was intense and passionate.

This time was fun and playful. Stiles kept giggling, which made Derek growl, which got Stiles giggling again.

It was a vicious cycle.

But it was _fun_. Stiles didn’t even know that sex could be fun like this. Hot, sure. Amazing, of course.

_Fun,_ though?

Derek was introducing so many firsts into his life and Stiles loved him all the more for it.

It took them about two hours to finish having sex. Not because it was all hardcore, supernatural endurance fucking but because Stiles kept laughing. And Derek, sourwolf that he was, would growl but then he’d also laugh because he thought Stiles was ridiculous.

When they finally came with blazingly good orgasms, it took about five minutes for their stomachs to start growling.

* * *

“Okay,” Stiles said as he began cooking the pierogies, bacon already cooking in the oven, “I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I’m Polish. I spent the afternoon making pierogies because they’re my favourite. Some of my best memories are of making them with my mom. We’d spend an afternoon stuffing them together. She always said it was a labour of love.”

Derek was watching him with serious intensity.

Stiles was getting used to that so he ignored it as he fried the pierogies. There was a certain rhythm to boiling them for a minute or two, then frying them until crispy.

He lost himself to it.

It didn’t take him long to finish. This was the easy part, after all.

They sort of tore into the food as soon as it was on the table. Once Stiles’ hunger stopped gnawing at him, he slowed to talk, “I quit my job today.”

Derek’s head snapped up, “Did something happen?” he growled.

Stiles laughed, “Ease up, big guy. I quit my job because I hated it. And, um, you said I’d have time while I decided. Because of the whole… pack thing. Then I spent the afternoon making pierogies. Like I said earlier, my mom said they were a labour of love. And, well, I know it’s fast and maybe too soon, but I love you. The past week has been amazing and I’d like to try the whole relationship thing with you.”

Stiles found that he was blushing by the time he stopped speaking. He didn’t look away though, since Derek’s eyes had started to glow that electric blue.

“I love you, Stiles. Not just because you’re my mate. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but you’ve been courting me too. Providing for me. Protecting me. Sheltering me. You’re amazing. So, yes. We can do the ‘relationship thing’,” the asshole actually made air quotes.

It made Stiles laugh…

Until something _shifted._

The world took on a new clarity and he could feel a pulsing warmth in his chest. A warmth he _knew_ connected him to Derek.

“Wh–” Stiles couldn’t speak over the wash of feelings. Over how _right_ and _good_ everything felt.

Derek was growling and he was beside Stiles before he could blink. The next moment he was in Derek’s lap, Derek’s face buried in his neck.

_“Stiles,”_ Derek growled out, “I’d hoped… I didn’t think you’d be ready to mate with me this soon. You always surprise me. God, I love you.”

Derek’s words echoed in his mind. They’d _mated?_

_How!?_

“How–” Stiles managed to get out. Derek didn’t stop nuzzling and Stiles really needed answers, “–did we mate? I was aiming for boyfriends…”

Derek’s arms tightened, “The bond forms after courting and when we’re ready. I thought you meant boyfriends too but… I wanted this. Want you forever. Guess you felt the same way.”

“I didn’t? I don’t think I did. I wanted to wait longer than a week before making a lifetime commitment, at least…” Stiles isn’t sure how he feels about it. He isn’t angry. Certainly doesn’t regret it.

The bond feels _too good_ for regret.

All his life, he’d felt out of place. Never making more than one friend. His home empty and incomplete without his mom.

It had never made sense to him. He was smart and passionate. Yet he couldn’t find anywhere to belong. He’d also largely failed at life. Accomplishing none of the things he’d dreamed about as a kid.

This bond though? Mating with Derek? It felt _right_. Like he belonged. Like he’d found his place in the world and wouldn’t need to question it again.

So… no regrets. Wouldn’t even take it back. He just didn’t feel _ready._

They’d met a week ago and now they were mated for _life._ It was absurd. Every practical, rational bone in his body was _screaming_ at him that it was too soon.

“I can scent your anxiety,” Derek quietly said, “Can I ask you a question?”

Stiles silently nodded.

“How often do you break commitments you make?” Derek gently asked.

Stiles frowned in confusion, “Never.”

“Do you break your promises?”

Now Stiles was feeling a little offended, _“No!”_ he said with great emphasis.

Derek quirked an eyebrow, “Do you give up on the people you love?”

Stiles was officially offended, “Of course not! I don’t give up even when I should. What’s with these questions? Are you doubting me?”

“No. I knew what your answers would be but you needed to remember who you are. You said you love me. Will you break the promises you make to me? Would you give up on me?” Derek asks with a decidedly smug look on his face.

It makes Stiles stop.

Stiles _had_ told Derek that he loved him. He’d done that.

Despite what the past week demonstrated, winning the love of a Stilinski wasn’t easy. And Stilinski men loved hard and forever.

_He loved Derek._

Short of the guy turning out to be an abusive dickbag, Stiles would _never_ give up on him. Would do his best to never hurt Derek. Would spend every day at his side.

Stiles would do all of these things even if he didn’t have a mystical moon connection. It’s just who he was.

He took a deep breath, “Wow. You’re _really_ good at that. I probably would’ve spiralled into a panic attack. It still feels _fast_ , though.”

Derek just shrugs, “The bond forms when we’re ready. It takes as long as it needs. Maybe by human standards, this is fast but… What we just did has nothing to do with human romantic norms. It was beautiful and I’m so happy. So happy that you’re mine and that I can keep you forever.”

Stiles looks at Derek’s wide, earnest eyes – faintly glistening like he’s going to cry happy tears at any moment – and whatever hangups he’s dealing with just melt away in the warmth of his sunbeam smile.

“Ugh, your face is _killing_ me right now. I love you. I really do. Even without our mystical moon connection, I’d do my best to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m done freaking out. I don’t regret any of this. The past week has been the most amazing week of my _entire life._ I’m so excited about the future we’re going to build together. The last time I felt this hopeful it was for college and I already _know_ being with you won’t disappoint me like that did. Now, with the full understanding that penetrative sex isn’t the height of intimacy, I’d really like you to fuck me. Like… a lot,” Stiles leans in for a kiss as he sees Derek’s blaze that gorgeous blue. Feels himself be lifted and carried into the bedroom.

* * *

They can’t do a lot of kissing because they’re both smiling too much. Apparently their playful mood from earlier hasn’t dissipated.

There’s a lot of laughing. Breaks for just cuddling and holding the other person close.

Sexier stuff like Stiles biting and sucking on Derek’s nipples as he squirms and shudders in pleasure.

Like Derek _feasting_ on Stiles’ ass like he needs it to live.

(The delicious scrape/burn of Derek’s beard making the entire experience a million times hotter.)

But then Stiles will look into Derek’s starburst eyes and… burst out laughing. Because they’re just so _beautiful_ and Stiles is so fucking _happy_.

While Stiles usually instigates the laughing, Derek gets distracted in different ways. Stiles will shift or stretch, long column of his throat exposed and Derek’ will inevitably be drawn to it. Deviate from sexy times to lick and breathe in Stiles’ scent at his throat. Playfully bite it and growl.

Until Derek’s cock brushes Stiles’ hole when he’s trying to count the beauty marks on his back. With his tongue.

Then they both jolt with pleasure and realize that they wanted Derek inside of Stiles about an hour ago.

So Derek will slick up his fingers and stretch Stiles out. He’ll slide in, slow and careful. The pace slow and languorous. Light kisses and soft touches. Making eye contact and smiling until Stiles giggles again.

And when Derek knots Stiles, pushing them both into a brain-melting orgasm, it’ll take Stiles minute to become coherent again.

At which point he’ll say, “Dude, you really could’ve warned me about the whole knotting thing. A little heads up would’ve been nice. Not complaining just… yeah. Let a guy know.”

Derek just grunts and nods as another wave of pleasure washes over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot that I had knotting for once. Or how kind of smutty (for me at least) the chapter is.
> 
> And, um, I totally wanted fun, lighthearted sex. You don't see enough of it.
> 
> (And, yes, sex can be like this. It's probably my favourite kind.)


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting the rest all at once! A special Saturday/weekend gift for everyone.

# Epilogue

The aftermath of the knotting episode was… messy.

The whole thing was fun but _so messy._

The aftermath of their mating was…

Awesome. Epically so.

Stiles was warmly received by the pack. They were overwhelming in the best way. For a person who’d spent so much of their life alone, it was fantastic. At any time of any day, there was _someone_ he could hang out with.

He’d moved his stuff into Derek’s loft, which was still their sanctuary when they needed a little space from the pack. They split their time between the loft and packhouse.

Eventually, he’d introduced Derek to his dad as his husband. Stiles had insisted on a human marriage because _he_ was human. It was also an easier way to communicate his level of commitment to other people. It felt too odd to call Derek his ‘boyfriend’ when they were mates.

It was a quick civil ceremony.

Scott and his dad were both upset and bewildered that he’d eloped with some random guy he’d met two weeks before their marriage.

Stiles might’ve cared more about it if either of them were more involved in his life. He loved them and would do anything for them but… they were all living their own lives now. Stiles didn’t see the point in a wedding when he’d already made a more important commitment to Derek.

A commitment that his _pack_ recognized. Same with other supernatural creatures. Which is what really mattered to Stiles.

Stiles was using his time off of work to learn about the real world. The one that had werewolves and magic.

The one that had _Derek._

He was also exploring the boundaries and nature of his magic.

One thing that the drudgery Stiles’ old life had ground out of him was his love of research and learning.

The Hales and a _huge_ library of supernatural resources and he easily spent _days_ reading and researching.

It eventually reached the point that pack members started to come to him with questions. When he didn’t know the answers, he usually had a good idea of where he could find them.

This was how he’d come up with his new ‘career’. Stiles was going to do a Masters of Library Sciences. But he wouldn’t need to look for a job (a good thing in this market!). Instead, he wanted to catalogue the Hale library. Learn how to properly archive their collection. Learn best practices for preservation. Maybe start a digitization project.[1]

In short…

He fucking _loved_ his new life.

His days weren’t a monotonous grind anymore. He felt _alive._

And a lot of it had to do with a gruff, bad boy currently glomping onto him. Because – as he’d truly learned – Derek was a _cuddle monster_. Stiles swore he had a shift and everything. Growing tentacles to ensure that his prey never escaped – not even when they _really_ had to pee.

So that’s the story of how Stiles was jolted out of his humdrum life.

All because he’d fallen in love with a (cuddle) monster.

There were worst fates.

* * *

[1] He was especially concerned about that last one… Many of the books in their collection were rare and unique. One house fire or flood and it’d be _gone_. Or, even without proper care the books would degrade over time. He just cared a lot, okay? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I super enjoyed writing a story where Stiles gets his boring life turned upside down by Derek, who's sort of a failwolf in the most charming way.
> 
> Featuring: lots of healthy communication! Also some smut!


End file.
